


You Make Me Sing

by MissQuartermistress



Series: I Really, Really Hate You Right Now [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:07:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissQuartermistress/pseuds/MissQuartermistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Bond serenaded Q, and the one time Q serenaded Bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Irresponsible

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever 00Q fic, and my first posted on AO3! I haven't written in CENTURIES, so this is probably complete crap.  
> Unbeta'd and unbritpicked, but I tried my best!  
> Any comments or kudos always appreciated, thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters nor the songs used in this fic do not belong to me. I just play with them for funsies!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this first chapter is particularly fluffy or schmoopy, but it'll get fluffier, promise!

            Ever since the events with Silva, the only voice James Bond wanted in his ear was Q’s. Somehow, the young Quartermaster had earned the hard-earned trust and respect of the agent, and was assigned – both formally by M and by the insistent request of Bond himself – to oversee the majority of his missions from then on. They made a superb team, probably the best one at MI6 thus far, with nearly all of their endeavors a success. But despite how well they worked together, it was natural that they didn’t always see eye-to-eye.

            “I’ve been doing this job longer than you’ve been out of school, Quartermaster,” the double-oh would say in response to any disagreement, completely set in his ways. It was pointless for Q to argue, having learned early on to prepare to reroute and re-strategize at anytime during missions, considering Bond lucky that the chosen voice in his ear had been a boy born quick on his keys enough to keep up and get the agent out of whatever mess that idiot had gotten himself into.

            Most of the time, anyway.

            Said idiot was currently in France, in pursuit of a top-secret chip last spotted in Paris. His mission had been extended an extra day due to the fact that said chip – which had been on his person less than 10 hours ago – was, well, no longer in his possession, much to a certain Quartermaster’s chagrin.

            “If you hadn’t gotten distracted, 007, maybe you would’ve been able to actually keep hold of the bloody thing you’re there for,” Q quipped at him through the earpiece, tapping away at his keyboard, frowning in frustration and deprivation. He hadn’t slept or eaten properly in days, hadn’t fed his cats or even seen the inside of his flat since before this mission began. James would simply not allow anyone else to guide him through, and it didn’t help that on what was supposed to be his day off spent in his nice, warm bed, Q was still seated in the same wheely chair in the main room of Q-branch, dressed in the same, now dirty cardigan he had been wearing for three days straight. “Sometimes, you’re just so…so… _irresponsible_!”

            Bond smirked at the unexpected choice of word for scolding, having been crouched in the same position for an hour now, waiting for his target. “Did you just call me _irresponsible_?”

            “Do you need your hearing checked, 007?” Q replied curtly, taking a sip of his Earl Grey and making a face at the frigid temperature of the only thing keeping him awake. With the agent still in his ear, he left his station briefly to make himself a new cuppa, the only minions still present in the building having disappeared, possibly asleep somewhere. Lucky bastards.

            James was aware that his Quartermaster was not a happy camper at the moment, and it was the agent’s personal, lifelong mission to stay on Q’s good side at all times. So he thought he’d lighten the mood a little bit, and he knew just how to do it.

            “ _Call me irresponsible,_

_Call me unreliable,_

_Throw in undependable, too…”_

Q was taken aback at the sudden, sultry sound of Bond’s singing voice, nearly dropping his Scrabble mug now refilled with hot tea again. He knew he shouldn’t be so caught off guard; just when he thought he knew everything about his agent, the man turned around and took him by surprise, every time.

“007, this is neither the time nor the place for Sinatra,” he simply responded and returned to his seat, trying to seem unaffected by the beautiful, flawless singing basically caressing his ear at the moment. Like James Bond had needed another perfect trait to add to his sex appeal.

            “ _Do my foolish alibis bore you?_

_Well I’m not too clever, I just adore you…”_

Q rolled his eyes and sighed audibly in response, knowing when the agent got started, there was no way of stopping him. Even during missions, James had nothing better to do than to flatter his Quartermaster in whatever way possible, and no matter what it was, it usually did the trick, whether a response was obvious to the naked eye (or in this case, ear) or not. Q immediately found his singing far more attractive than he would let on. In fact, he found most things about Bond more attractive than he would ever let on, ever. It was hard not to.

            “ _Call me unpredictable, tell me I’m impractical – ”_

“Seriously, double-oh – ”

_“Rainbows I’m inclined to pursue…”_

“Bond – ”

            “ _Call me irresponsible – ”_

“That you are.”

 _“Yes, I’m unreliable –_ ”

            “No kidding.”

            “ _But it’s undeniably true…”_

A shake of the head and another sigh, but a smile crept onto Q’s lips this time and stayed there, unseen by the agent.

            “ _I’m irresponsibly mad...for...you!”_

“Bond, you’re getting a psych eval the second you get home.”

            James grinned brilliantly, hoping that wasn’t the only thing in store for him when he got home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Call Me Irresponsible by Frank Sinatra


	2. Kiss You

            “Are you alright, boss?”

            Q had been particularly jumpy that entire Friday morning, more easily startled than usual. Anytime anyone came up behind him, even doing something as harmless as touch his shoulder, he would jump. It was getting to the point where the minions were legitimately worried he would injure himself, especially since he was currently working on a new, highly explosive prototype that had yet to be tested, refusing any and all assistance for the time being.

            “I’m fine, Tess,” he reassured his minion with a soft smile, trying desperately to concentrate on his work. Truth be told, Q was anything but fine. He hated feeling so on edge, but he couldn’t help it. For the last solid month, a certain secret agent had been relentlessly trying to get his Quartermaster to go on a date with him, going to such lengths as visiting Q-branch every single day and asking: to lunch, to dinner, to a movie, to coffee (or in Q’s case, tea). Every day, Bond spelled out a different plan, quickly becoming very elaborate in his plots to the point where the younger man was very tempted to say yes. But every time, the answer was always “no” with an excuse tacked on. “No, I don’t think it’s a good idea” or “no, we have a professional relationship to maintain” or “no, I will not be another one of your conquests, Bond”. Despite being shot down every single time, the thing that drove James to continue asking was that, not once, did Q just flat out say he wasn’t interested or even look annoyed by it. James thought maybe, just maybe, the Quartermaster liked being pursued by him, noticing an adorable little smile gracing the younger man’s face every time James walked into his branch, a smile that didn’t seem to disappear whenever the double-oh was around, despite never returning with equipment in any kind of working condition, if the equipment even came back at all. Q wasn’t exactly thrilled about that, but there was always still a hint of a smile on his lips that he couldn’t – or simply wouldn’t – get rid of.

            He knew he had feelings for Bond, but refused to ever admit to them. He had decided that it was virtually impossible for anyone not to fancy the agent; he practically oozed sex, and no one in their right mind would not be attracted to him. He had also decided that, while Bond was currently after him, it was all very fleeting. That after a while, the agent would move on to going after someone else, someone more attractive, someone more on his level. Once Bond was on another mission and met another beautiful, exotic woman throwing herself at him, he would forget all about his stubborn Quartermaster, and that would be the end of that. Q knew that to be true, even if he wished it wasn’t.

            The reason for his current jumpiness, however, was the exact opposite. Even though 007 had been sent to Cambodia last week, for some reason, he was still in pursuit of Q, only long-distance this time. Since he couldn’t physically be in Q-branch to harass his Quartermaster, he lavished him with gifts instead.

            On Monday, a lovely arrangement of orchids (which Q loved the scent of) had appeared on Q’s desk, along with a note in a familiar penmanship that said, “Let’s have a picnic in the park”. Q had left the arrangement in the main room “to brighten the place up”, secretly keeping the note hidden in his desk drawer.

            On Tuesday, it was a large basket filled with his favorite Earl Grey, and another note – “Let’s have tea with the Queen”. Q put the tea in the break room for anyone who wanted it, but made himself a cup and slipped the ridiculous note into the same desk drawer, trying to hide his growing amusement.

            On Wednesday, it was an elaborate Scrabble set made entirely of Belgian chocolate (Q’s favorite game and candy), accompanied by “Let’s play strip Scrabble – I’ll let you win”. Once again, the gift was passed on to his minions, except for a chocolate “Q” that Q was nibbling on, and the note (which, by the way, gave him fantasies that he would have rather not had during work hours).

            On Thursday, it was a beautifully wrapped box full of designer, cashmere cardigans, each a different color. “Let’s go shopping and fool around in the changing rooms”. This time, the minions forced their leader to keep the entirety of the gift, claiming only he could pull off those cardigans. He did, trying to look upset about it and trying even harder not to blush and think about that note, tucked into the drawer with the others.

            And now it was Friday, and Q had come into work to an empty desk and news that 007 had arrived home safely late last night, which made him more nervous than he would admit to being. He knew this wasn’t over yet, and the fact that the agent was off mission now meant that whatever he was giving Q today, it would probably top all the rest, and would most likely be delivered by Bond himself. The thought made Q anxious, with just a hint of excitement.

            Eventually, after failing to have any progress with the prototype, Q forced himself to relax. Maybe the agent wouldn’t have anything this time. Maybe Bond was back to making simple visits to Q-branch that did not involve presents and horrible, wonderful notes. Or maybe there wouldn't be anything at all. Maybe Bond was done, having received no response from the younger man, which could be taken as a “no to all”. Q was surprised to find that he was actually visibly upset by that thought, having considered taking Bond up on one of his offers from this week (the last one was the favorite). Shaking his head at his own ridiculousness, Q convinced himself that it was better if this was the end of it. If Bond had given up, maybe Q could finally drive that agent out of his thoughts and dreams. Maybe he could stop feeling things he didn’t want to feel.

            “Q?”

            He looked up to see Moneypenny standing in front of his workstation in the main room. “Are you alright?”

            “Yes, I’m fine. Why does everyone keep asking me that?!” Q almost snapped at her.

            “Because you don’t look it, sweetie. What’s the matter?” Eve frowned, leaning against the front his desk.

            “Nothing, nothing’s the matter,” he answered her a little too quickly, focusing his eyes on the prototype. He was the worst liar ever. “Aren’t, aren’t you a little early for lunch?”

            Moneypenny always came down to Q-branch and they spent their lunch break together, talking and laughing and plotting their world domination, but that wasn’t for another half hour.

            “Oh, M needs me at 12:30 to sit in on a meeting, so I took my break early,” she said casually. Eve, on the other hand, was a good liar. “It’s okay, I’ll just sit with you while you work.”

            Q nodded, not thinking anything of it. He also failed to notice how his minions had all become distracted from their jobs, glancing eagerly at the door.

            All of a sudden, very loud, very upbeat music started blasting throughout Q-branch, startling the Quartermaster and making him jump worse than before, almost dropping the prototype. He immediately looked around for the source of the music, whipping his head back and forth before discovering the speakers that had not been present a minute ago.

            And of course, in came a grinning James Bond, strangely devoid of his signature suit and tie, and instead sporting tight jeans and a black leather jacket. He quickly picked up the microphone from the nearest minion’s desk, his sights set on Q, though his gaze was hidden by his dark aviators.           

            _“Oh, I just wanna take you anywhere that you like_

_We could go out any day, any night_

_Baby, I’ll take you there, take you there_

_Baby I’ll take you there, yeah…”_

Q was wide-eyed and paralyzed in his seat, unable to take his eyes off the agent, who was making a right fool of himself in front of all of Q-branch. Yet somehow, he was still as sexy as ever, that voice of his able to sing any song ever written, even the latest boy band hit. Bond could probably sing the ABC’s in a clown suit and still manage to make some panties drop.

            James suavely approached Q’s workstation, moving his hips, shoulders, and arms to the beat of the music and tossing his sunglasses aside so that his brilliantly blue eyes met Q’s chocolate browns, holding their gaze. 

_“Oh, tell me tell me tell me how to turn your love on_

_You can get, get anything that you want_

_Baby, just shout it out, shout it out_

_Baby, just shout it out, yeah…”_

            Bond was right against the edge of the desk now, making sure he had Q’s full attention (as if there was anything more distracting than this).

_“And if yo-o-ou_

_You want me, to-o-o_ (Bond pointed at Q, then himself)

_Let’s make a mo-ove_

_Yeah, so tell me, Q, if every time we_

_To-o-uch_ (fingers ran over Q’s hand before Bond moved back a little, still facing him)

_You get this kind of ru-u-ush_

_Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah_

_If you don’t wanna take it slow_ (Bond shook his head slightly)

 _And you just wanna take me home_ (and then nodded)

_Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah_

_Yeah, yeah_

_And let me kiss you…”  
_

            Bond gave Q a wink as he effortlessly shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it to the nearest minion, revealing a forest green v-neck sweater that hugged him in all the right places, outlining his biceps quite nicely. Q couldn’t help but stare, subconsciously wishing that that would come off, too.

 _“Oh, baby, baby, don’t you know you got what I need_ (Bond took that moment to place his undamaged Walther on Q’s desk, giving him another wink)

_Lookin’ so good from your head to your feet_

_Come on, come over here, over here_

_Come on, come over here, yeah_

            _Oh, I just wanna show you off to all of my friends_ (Bond walked over to Moneypenny then, swinging his arm over her shoulders)

 _Makin’ them drool down their chinny-chin-chins_ (He touched her chin briefly, making her giggle before he went back to Q)

 _Baby, be mine tonight, mine tonight_ (Bond put his hand on his own chest, gripping his sweater where his heart was located)

_Baby, be mine tonight, yeah_

_And if yo-o-ou_

_You want me, to-o-o_

_Let’s make a mo-ove_

_Yeah, so tell me, Q, if every time we_

_To-o-uch_

_You get this kind of ru-u-ush_

_Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah_

_If you don’t wanna take it slow_

_And you just wanna take me home_

_Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah_ (Bond pressed himself against Q’s work station again, leaning further towards him this time)

 _Yeah, yeah_ (the space between them was shrinking, smaller and smaller)

_And let me kiss you…”_

James’ face was dangerously close as he sang that last line, his voice softening slightly before letting out a warm breath. His lips were centimeters away from Q’s, looking as if he was gonna plant one on him right then and there. It took everyone by surprise, including the agent, when it was the younger man who pulled James forward and kissed him hard, unable to resist any longer. Bond’s lips were as soft and heavenly as Q had imagined them to be, moving sensually over his Quartermaster’s as he tilted his head at the perfect angle to deepen their kiss. They only broke apart when they heard loud clapping and whooping from all around them, Q quickly pulling away when he remembered that they had an audience.

            Q, cheeks flushed an attractive shade of red, looked around at his minions, Moneypenny, and Tanner (who had poked his head in to see what was the commotion), before gazing at Bond once again, who was still leaned over the workstation.

            “One Direction? Really, 007?” he remarked simply, his smile that was only reserved for the agent shining brighter than usual despite feeling a little embarrassed by that whole show.

            “Well a little birdie told me you’re a fan,” James said, causing Q to look over at Eve, who had on her best innocent face. “So, what do you say, Quartermaster? Can I take you to lunch? Or do I have to sing some more?”

            Q bit his kiss-swollen bottom lip, standing up and deciding to go with what his heart was urging him to do this time.

            “Do that again, Bond, and next mission, you’ll be defending yourself with a hot pink Walther. That shoots bubbles.”

            “I love it when you threaten me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this turned out SO OOC and cracky, I am so sorry. I should just label this an AU because seriously, I'm just cringing.  
> Bond was supposed to sing another Sinatra song, but I couldn’t resist. I heard this and the scene in my head was begging to be written.  
> I apologize once again.  
> Please don’t hate me.  
> <3
> 
> Song: Kiss You by One Direction  
> btw, Bond's jacket and v-neck here are what Daniel Craig was wearing on the cover of Vanity Fair. ^_^


	3. Just A Kiss Goodnight

            It would be a lie to say that James Bond hadn’t developed feelings for his Quartermaster long before anyone knew, even the agent himself. He wasn't aware of exactly when or where it had started, but it had been lingering within his subconscious for quite sometime now, just beneath the surface, before plunging through the water and hitting him out of nowhere with realization. Somewhere along the way, somewhere between bloody big ships and breadcrumbs, he had fallen for the four-eyed, skinny little nerd of Q-branch.

_Shit._

            After weeks and weeks of trying – and failing – to convince himself otherwise with copious amounts of alcohol and women, Bond had been forced to come to terms with the fact that his Quartermaster was slowly becoming something more to him, and no matter what (or who) he did, there seemed to be no way to stop this. Bond knew he was in trouble. First of all, he had no clue if Q was even interested in men, let alone him. Second, there was a big chance that the Quartermaster was too professional to even think about getting involved with anyone at MI6. And third, well, Bond just wasn’t sure about the whole thing. Normally, this wasn’t a problem for the double-oh. When he wanted something, he would go out and get it, no hesitation whatsoever, people included. He didn’t want to toot his own horn, but he was considered an expert at getting deep into someone’s mind, mouth, and bed, most of the time without even breaking a sweat (until he got to the bed, of course). But this…this was different.

            It wasn’t the first time James had found himself wanting to be involved with another man, but it certainly didn’t happen often, and hadn’t for a very long time. His first real relationship with a man, which had taken place when he was still in uni, had not gone well whatsoever, and it was because of that experience that the agent preferred women. Maybe it was the aloofness he now felt in delicate, feminine arms, but women were just easier entanglements in his eyes. Men, to him, were much more complicated, despite being one himself. So, Bond treaded slowly and carefully. Little by little, he spent more time in Q-branch to collect his equipment, return (what was left of) his equipment, explain what had happened to said equipment, anything that would give him a reason to be there for as long as possible. And the more he was there, the more he got to know Q. It wasn’t long until Bond knew all the little things about his Quartermaster, how he took his tea with just a splash of low-fat milk, no sugar; how Q absolutely hated it when he couldn’t remember a minion’s name, and wouldn’t let anyone tell him until he at least tried to figure it out himself; how the younger man would sigh knowingly and ruffle up his hair whenever he saw what 007 had brought back for him after missions; how he would chew on that adorable bottom lip of his in concentration when he was focused on a code or hacking. And the more Bond learned about Q, the longer his pesky little feelings stayed, poking at him to do something about it.

            So James did. He made it a point to shamelessly flirt with his Quartermaster every chance he got, even when he maybe should’ve been concentrating more on the mission. When Bond got what he considered to be a positive reaction out of the younger man (which was really just sighs and eye-rolls instead of duct tape and a restraining order), he decided to make his intentions more easily known, and constantly asked Q out, trying desperately to figure out the magic word that would get him a date.

            Eventually, James discovered that his Quartermaster needed more than just chasing after. Q liked to be wooed. He wanted to know that James’ intentions were sincere, that he wouldn’t just be another notch in his bedpost. Truth be told, the double-oh didn’t know where this whole thing would go. All Bond knew was that every time he saw his Quartermaster, it made his heart squeeze inside his chest. Every time they came within centimeters of each other, close enough for Bond to be able to inhale Q’s intoxicating scent, the agent had the biggest urge to push the younger man up against the nearest wall and touch him everywhere, kissing him senseless until they were both panting for breath. Bond wanted to know everything there was to know about his Quartermaster until he knew Q better than Q knew himself. He wanted to get inside of him, in every aspect possible. What Bond didn’t know was that he was just as much inside the Quartermaster’s mind as Q was in his own.

            It was their first date – a long lunch in one of James’ favourite spots: a little French bistro hidden in the heart of London – that started to open everything up. They spent hours just talking and laughing over amazing food and wine, no physical contact other than some light handholding and footsie under the table. The two became so wrapped up in each other, learning every detail about each other’s lives, that they completely forgot to go back to work until several hours later. Luckily, Q’s minions were happy to cover for him, having known that once he was out with Bond at long last, he would most likely forget about everything else. Actually, they were ready to cover for him for the remainder of that Friday, but Q did eventually return to work; a little less focused with his head in the clouds, but present nonetheless.

            After that, James and Q couldn’t stay away from each other. They went out every single night, Bond managing to find the perfect, most romantic spots in the city that always seemed to take Q’s breath away. Everything was absolutely perfect; neither of them could hardly believe it. But Bond was purposely taking things at a glacial pace, not even daring to kiss the object of his affections again until their third night out, pressing their lips together for a simple kiss goodnight that left both of them wanting more. The agent wasn’t intentionally doing this to exasperate his date or anything, but to be careful, for both their sakes. Bond didn’t want to push Q into anything so suddenly and end up pushing too far. He had yet to love someone he didn’t lose, and he didn’t want to lose Q, not for anything in the world. So, he kept himself from falling in love for as long as possible, even though deep down, he knew it was too late.

            A week following their first date, after another absolutely perfect evening, Q couldn’t stand letting their night end at his doorstep, and invited Bond inside. It was the Quartermaster who had to initiate things, pushing the agent against his front door once they were inside his flat and kissing him hard, his hands slipping under Bond’s jacket to caress his sides. The double-oh reciprocated immediately, holding Q close to his body and turning him around so that it was the younger man who was pushed against the hard surface now. Q moaned as their already half-hard cocks rubbed against each other through the fabric of their trousers; he wanted desperately to get rid of everything between them, to feel Bond’s skin against his. Wrapping his legs around his agent, Q urgently pulled him closer, his arms tightly embraced around his neck as they kissed, exploring each other’s hot mouths with their tongues, like undiscovered caverns.

            “Bedroom. Now,” Q murmured after breaking their kiss, leaning his forehead against James’ as he breathed heavily. Bond hesitated.

            “Q, I…I can’t do this.”

            He sighed, frustrated as he gently removed Q from around his waist to have him stand again and took a step back. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I _do_ , honestly, it’s just…”

            “What’s wrong?” Q frowned, disappointed and unsure. Had he done something? What had happened?

            Bond explained that he didn’t want to rush this thing between them, that he didn’t want to do something that Q, or both of them, could later regret. It was obvious that Bond had never been good at relationships, and he didn’t want to mess this one up. He wanted all of this to last for as long as possible.

            Q sensed the fear and uncertainty hidden deep beneath Bond’s words, running a hand over his cheek reassuringly and giving him a soft kiss on the lips to convey that he understood. He didn’t think the agent could make him fall any harder, but once again, Q was proven wrong. He found this side of the double-oh to be pleasantly surprising and absolutely endearing.

            So they took it slow, ending their evenings with nothing but goodnight kisses for now. Though he didn’t exactly mean for this to happen, Bond setting the pace the way he did had made them want each other that much more, to the point where it was only two weeks into their relationship that neither one of them could put it off any longer. So once again, Q invited James into his flat, this time letting the agent decide what they would do, and it wasn’t long until Bond had his Quartermaster in bed, passionately shagging him into the mattress until Q was crying out his name as they both came. It was, without a doubt, the best sex of both their lives. “You should make me wait more often,” Q had joked afterwards, though it was highly doubtful that they would be able to keep their hands off each other from then on.

            As they were coming off of the high of their orgasms, they cuddled comfortably in Q’s bed, the younger man curled up against his agent with his head laying against his lover’s bare chest, Bond’s arms holding him close with no intention of letting him go anytime soon. Regardless of any misgivings James had had about their budding relationship, everything felt so incredibly _right_. It felt so natural for them to be together, talking or kissing or making love or just being _together_ , as if it should’ve been like this all along.

            Q yawned and sighed contentedly, his eyelids growing heavy as he traced lazy patterns against Bond’s warm skin. He couldn't begin to explain how he felt, how amazing and unbelievable this all was. The last two weeks had felt like a dream, like a page out of someone else’s life. He didn’t think it would ever be this way between them, what with the way their lives were: hectic, unpredictable, and uncontrollable in every sense. Q knew that when he took this job with MI6, it meant saying good-bye to everything else in his life, which meant relationships were pretty much out of the question. And he had been okay with that. He had been willing to sacrifice all that extra stuff for his work, only because he had never experienced anything wonderful enough to make him see what he was missing, until now.

            Q didn’t want to say goodnight, not just yet, but Bond could sense the oncoming slumber, carefully taking Q’s horn-rimmed glasses and placing them on the bedside table next to him. Q placed a lingering kiss against Bond’s chest in thanks before resting his cheek there once again. He didn’t want to move; he didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t right next to Bond.

            “James, will you sing me to sleep?” Q asked softly, his voice thick with tiredness. He loved the sound of Bond’s voice; it had been one of the things he had fallen for first, and he wanted it to be the last thing he heard before drifting off that night.

            “What should I sing, dear?”

            “Anything. The first song that comes to mind.”

            Bond carded his fingers through Q’s hair as he thought for a moment, the only thing on his mind right now being the Quartermaster currently residing in his arms. He smiled to himself as he realized the first song that entered his thoughts basically put all of his present feelings into words. He hoped it would be able to tell Q what he wanted to say.

            _“Lyin’ here with you so close to me_

_It’s hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe_

_Caught up in this moment, caught up in your smile…_

_I’ve never opened up to anyone_

_So hard to hold back when I’m holdin’ you in my arms_

_We don’t need to rush this, let’s just take it slow…_

_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight_

_Just a touch of the fire burning so bright_

_No, I don’t mess this thing up_

_I don’t wanna push too far_

_Just a shot in the dark, that you just might_

_Be the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life_

_So baby, I’m alright, with just a kiss goodnight…”_

Bond placed a gentle kiss in Q’s hair, believing him to be asleep, but the Quartermaster refused to just yet, persistently murmuring for Bond to continue, aware that this wasn’t just a random song plucked from memory. It was a message, a melodic message of feeling. The agent smirked, unable to deny Q anything.

_“I know that if we give this a little time_

_It’ll only bring us closer to the love we want to find_

_It’s never felt so real, no it’s never felt so right…_

_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight_

_Just a touch of the fire burning so bright_

_No, I don’t wanna mess this thing up_

_I don’t wanna push too far_

_Just a shot in the dark that you just might_

_Be the one I’ve been waiting for my whole life_

_So baby, I’m alright, with just a kiss goodnight…_

_No, I don’t want to say goodnight_

_I know it’s time to leave, but you’ll be in my dreams, tonight…_

_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight_

_Just a touch of the fire burnin’ so bright_

_No, I don’t wanna mess this thing up_

_I don’t wanna push too far_

_Just a shot in the dark that you just might_

_Be the one I’ve been waitin’ for my whole life_

_So baby, I’m alright_

_Ohhh, let’s do this right_

_Just a kiss goodnight…_

_With a kiss goodnight, kiss goodnight…”_

Bond’s voice softened until it was barely a whisper, finishing the song as Q’s breathing evened out, meaning he was finally fast asleep, though still holding on tightly. Taking care not to jostle his lover, Bond gently took the sheets to cover them both, then moved his arms back to protectively embrace his Quartermaster, letting his eyes fall closed.

            “Goodnight, my Q,” he said quietly, sleep overtaking him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Just A Kiss by Lady Antebellum


	4. You're Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka the chapter that includes the song where I got the title for this fic from

            On certain Friday nights, after a long, hard week of working, a select few from MI6 would gather at their own private watering hole, a hidden karaoke bar designated for government employees only, to unwind and drown their troubles in quality food, even better drinks, and the occasional singing, the last of which not usually as good as the first two, but entertaining nonetheless. James Bond, having formed a special relationship with his fellow double-ohs and being familiar with some of the other workers, was present when he wasn’t away on a mission, unable to miss an opportunity to drink and socialize with people other than marks and informants. Strangely enough, he didn’t typically make a fool of himself on the microphone like many of the others, despite having an excellent singing voice. No, he preferred to sit back and relax, martini in hand, enjoying watching as his cohorts butchered the classics for all to hear. It was a nice way to conclude the workweek, something to look forward to, and supported a sense of camaraderie amongst the staff.

            Q, on the other hand, didn’t frequent these outings unless strongly coerced by Bond or Moneypenny with seduction or threats (you can guess who did what). His workweek very rarely ended on Fridays; he was always the last one to leave, either staying late to finish up some last-minute details on equipment, or more likely, to get a certain double-oh out of the sticky situation he had found himself in, back on a flight home and into his arms. When Bond was away, Q never left the branch, preferring to stay right by the monitors to keep track of the agent rather than going home to their empty flat and cold bed, lacking the warmth he so desperately wanted there. It had been when Q and Bond became involved that Q was actually seen at karaoke night for the first time in a long time, his agent safely in England, taking worry off of the Quartermaster’s mind.

…

            Q was seated comfortably between Bond and Moneypenny, sipping wine and stifling giggles as a very gone Tanner did a rendition of “Killing Me Softly” that he would regret later.

            “Please? Please please _please_?” Q said with his cutest pout, leaning the side of his head against Bond’s shoulder, though his gaze was focused on Eve, giving her his best puppy dog eyes. She sighed as Bond shot her a look that said “There’s no use resisting”.

            “ **Fine**. I’m only singing ‘R-E-S-P-E-C-T’ because you’re actually present for once, and because I need to get my Aretha Franklin on,” Moneypenny finally gave in before ordering another necessary shot of tequila. Q grinned triumphantly at her, and she scowled at him in response. “You know, the purpose of having a boyfriend is to force _him_ to do what you want, not your lovely best mate who has no such luck.”

            “I hear him sing all the time; it’s my _very_ lovely best mate who’s singing I never get to hear,” Q countered, smiling annoyingly at Eve’s eye roll before turning his face towards said boyfriend. “Though I do adore your singing, love,” he murmured before softly burying his face in the agent’s neck.

            “I do hope you’re not planning on hearing it tonight, dear,” Bond responded, taking a drink from his martini.

            “And why not?” Q asked, lifting his head from its resting position. Bond had to look away; the pout was back, and more prominent than ever.

            ‘Because, darling, my singing is reserved for you only. You know that,” he said matter-of-factly, giving his lover a feather-light kiss on the lips. The double-oh wasn’t usually one to perform anything in public, even if it was just in front of colleagues in a secluded little bar. As an agent, he was taught to be as inconspicuous as possible unless it was necessary to draw attention to himself, so it was natural for him to stay within the crowd and observe others instead.

            Q liked that he was special enough to be the sole audience, the only one privileged enough to hear his boyfriend sing, but at the same time, he was slightly disappointed.

            “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to go up there? You could sing something for me again,” he suggested casually while rubbing Bond’s arm, thinking back on the time in Q-branch almost a year ago. He had been flustered and embarrassed about it at the time, but he soon realized how amazingly sweet it had been and wouldn’t mind another show.

            “If I’m not mistaken, I do distinctly recall someone threatening me with a bubble gun for my next mission if I ever performed for him in public again,” Bond said with a smirk.

            “I meant _in the workplace_ ,” Q corrected. “This is clearly not the workplace, and can essentially be deemed appropriate for singing.”

            “So you’re actually encouraging this?” Bond asked, eyebrows slightly raised.

            “I’m in a good mood.” The last mission in Thailand had been successful, and 007 had returned with only a few scratches (which translates to a sprained wrist and some new, but superficial scars on his posterior torso), and most surprisingly, his Walther in working condition. “That’s the only reason you were even able to get me out of my flat tonight.”

            “Oh don’t worry, love, I’ll get you back into the flat soon enough,” Bond said with that devilish smile of his. “Then, you can have whatever you want, and then some.”

            “What if I want you to give it to me now?” Q asked with that glint in his eyes, knowing exactly how his question sounded. But the agent knew better.

            “I’m not singing tonight, Q.”

            Q frowned, but didn’t press further. He just sighed disappointedly and leaned his head again, finishing the last of his wine with no remark. Bond emptied his own glass as well and snatched up Q’s, giving him a lingering kiss in his unruly hair before extracting himself from his boyfriend’s grasp to get refills. He leaned against the bar, catching the bartender’s attention for another round, and then waited, sideways glancing over at their table to make sure Q wasn’t looking before getting ahold of the karaoke songbook and perusing it. He came back with their drinks, receiving a murmured thanks from Q before the Quartermaster stood up and headed towards the loo, not having a clue of what Bond was planning now.

            When Q returned to their empty seats, he glanced up to see his boyfriend now onstage, the mic in one hand and his martini in the other.

            “This is for you, dear,” Bond said, taking a quick sip as the music started.

            _“You’re a falling star_

_You’re the getaway car_

_You’re the line in the sand when I go too far_

_You’re the swimming pool, on an August day_

_And you’re the perfect thing to say_

_And you play it cool, but it’s kinda cute_

_Ah, when you smile at me you know exactly what you do_

_Baby, don't pretend, that you don’t know its true_

_‘Cause you can see it when I look at you_

_And in this crazy life_

_And through these crazy times_

_It’s you, it’s you_

_You make me sing_

_You’re every line, you’re every word, you’re everything…”_

Q was absolutely blushing and grinning from ear to ear as the melodic sound of Bond’s gorgeous, sultry singing voice filled the bar, catching the attention of everyone inside it. But the singer only had eyes for his love, as Bond’s gaze never left Q’s. They were in their own little world together.

_“You’re a carousel_

_You’re a wishing well_

_And you light me up, when you ring my bell_

_You’re a mystery_

_You’re from outer space_

_You’re every minute of my everyday_

_And I can’t believe, that I’m your man_

_And I get to kiss you, baby, just because I can_

_Whatever comes our way, oh we’ll see it through_

_And you know, that’s what our love can do_

_And in this crazy life_

_And through these crazy times_

_It’s you, it’s you_

_You make me sing_

_You’re every line, you’re every word, you’re everything_

_So, la la la la la la la_

_So, la la la la la la la_

_And in this crazy life_

_And through these crazy times_

_It’s you, it’s you_

_You make me sing_

_You’re every line, you’re every word, you’re everything_

_You’re every song, and I sing along_

_‘Cause you’re my everything_

_Yeah, yeah_

_So, la la la la la la la_

_So, la la la la la la la…”_

            The entire bar applauded, and it took all of Q’s willpower not to run up on stage and jump his boyfriend right then and there. Instead, he waited patiently as Bond handed the mic over to the next singer and made his way back to their table. Q wrapped his arms around the agent’s neck, pulling him down to press their lips together in a deep kiss, earning them a few whoops. If someone wasn’t aware that the two were in a relationship, they definitely knew now.

            “Thank you, love. That was beautiful,” Q said once he let Bond sit down again, though didn’t let go of him just yet.

            “Anything for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea that Bond and Q are very open with their relationship. I know it's probably not allowed/frowned upon at MI6, but I figure everyone knows about it anyway (especially after the whole incident in Ch. 2, haha) and it's probably okay because in my head, it doesn't affect their work relationship negatively. I bet it enhances it, actually. :)
> 
> Song: Everything by Michael Bublé


	5. Let's Stay Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned from the dead! Here to bring you all a fix-it chapter of sorts, set after the events of Spectre (because we definitely needed it). In my mind, this is totes how it went. ;)

    In truth, Bond wasn’t at fault. It wasn’t his fault that Madeleine Swann had fallen in love with him, and then decided to show it to the world after he had saved her life for the millionth time, as promised to her late father. Unfortunately, Q had only been witness to the impromptu kiss, and had quickly walked off before he could see James pushing her away, politely explaining that while he was flattered, he was not interested in her in that way. He earned himself a hard slap in the face for that one, which he had not minded. What he did mind was the fact that his long-term boyfriend was now visibly upset.

    “I know that she’s blonde and gorgeous and ‘ _understands you_ ’, but did you have to go and kiss her in front of everyone? In front of me?” Q said as he stormed into headquarters, immediately plopping down at his desk, trying to pour all of his attention into turning his laptop on again.

    “How many times do I have to say this, Q? _She_ kissed _me_ , and I pushed her away, if you had even bothered to pay attention!” James said as he followed his Quartermaster into the deserted Q-branch, wincing as he heard himself speak. _Yes, go ahead, Bond, make your boyfriend even more mad at you_ , he thought to himself, sighing as he cautiously made his way closer.

    “I’m sorry, love,” he said softly. “I should have said something to her when I knew she had feelings for me. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”

    The double-oh gently reached for his lover’s hand, which Q immediately snatched away in favor of typing away at his keyboard.

    “I have a lot of work to do, 007,” Q said, making Bond frown. He only ever called James that in front of their colleagues during missions and when he was very, very upset with him.

    “Q - “

    “Save it, Bond,” Q cut him off, closing his laptop with a sharp snap and taking it with him into his private office, slamming the door shut. James sighed, running a hand through his short, blond hair as he started pacing in frustration. He knew he should go in after him, but what else could he say? There was no getting through to his lover, no matter how many times he tried to explain or apologize. Just as he reached for the doorknob to Q’s office, something across the room caught his eye. Walking over to it, James found an acoustic guitar leaning against one of the corners in the branch, probably belonging to one of the delusional minions who was under the impression they would have “down time” while working here. He immediately picked it up and rattled his brain for the right song; it was worth a shot.

 

_“I, I’m so in love with you_

_Whatever you want to do is alright with me_

_‘Cause you make me feel so brand-new_

_I want to spend my life with you…”_

 

    Q was in the middle of attempting to organize his files when the sounds of guitar playing, followed by an all-too-familiar sultry singing voice, wafted into the office, causing him to immediately stop what he was doing.

 

_“Let me say that since, baby, since we’ve been together_

_Lovin’ you forever is what I need_

_Let me be the one you come running to, baby baby_

_I’ll never be untrue, baby…”_

 

    Trying his hardest to stay angry, Q could already feel his resolve weakening; James very much knew his singing was one of his Quartermaster’s weaknesses, and he didn’t hesitate to use that to his advantage. And the guitar playing made it even worse.

 

_“Oh baby let’s, outta stay together_

_Lovin’ you whether, whether times are good or bad, happy or sad, c’mon_

_Oh, oh, oh_

_Whether times are good or bad, happy or sad, c’mon”_

 

     Sighing and knowing he would regret this later, Q finally opened the door, eliciting a smile from his agent, who continued on with even more enthusiasm. As James serenaded him, the younger man leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and trying not to look as if the singing was melting away his anger, which it totally was.

 

_“Why, somebody, why people break up?_

_Oh, turn around and make up_

_I just can’t see_

_‘Cause you’d never do that to me, baby_

_Would you, baby_

_Being around you is all I see_

_Ohh baby let’s, we outta stay together_

_Lovin’ you whether, whether times are good or bad, happy or sad, c’mon…”_

 

    As he finished the song, James could see the smile threatening to come out on his Quartermaster’s face and took this opportunity to put the guitar down and cautiously approach him, taking both of Q’s hands in his.

    “Darling, I really am sorry,” he said quietly, bringing his lover’s hands to his lips and placing gentle kisses against his knuckles. “I love you. You mean everything to me.” Q sighed again, moving closer so that he could wrap his arms around James’s neck, kissing him softly.

    “I love you, too,” Q answered, touching their foreheads together, his eyes staying closed as he relished in the heat between them. He knew he had been bottling up ill feelings ever since Austria, and had refused to say a word, which was never a good thing. “Madeleine’s obviously been falling in love with you since the beginning and, seeing her kiss you was the last straw. I guess I just let my jealousy get out of hand.”

    “You have absolutely nothing to be jealous about, love. You’re the only one I want to be with. You’re it for me; there’s no one else.”

    Q sighed contentedly as his agent pressed their lips together in a searing kiss, pulling him in by the collar and closing any space that was still between them. He always had a hard time with Bond’s most successful technique of extracting information, having to listen to him seduce a great deal of women (and sometimes even men) on the comm. Despite knowing it was all for the sole purpose of the mission, Q couldn’t help but let it make him feel insecure, both about their relationship and himself in general. But at the end of the day, none of what went on with the marks meant anything at all to the agent, and 007 always eagerly came back to his Quartermaster’s awaiting arms, where he belonged.

    They kissed hungrily for several minutes, as if they hadn’t seen in each in ages, which it felt like after everything they had just been through. Q let out a soft whimper as James moved down to kiss his neck tenderly, leaving bruising lovebites in his wake, both of them becoming hard and growing more and more desperate for each other. Q felt his lover’s hands reach under his shirt, his calloused fingers running over the familiar soft skin there before slipping underneath the waistline of his trousers and gripping hard, causing Q to moan as their groins were pushed together, making their overwhelming arousal evident. They made quick work of each other’s clothes, tossing them aside as the agent hastily directed them to the desk, lifting Q to sit atop his workspace before he was pulled back against him into another kiss.

    “I’m gonna make you come so hard, you won’t be able to sit at this desk without getting aroused,” James whispered as Q wrapped his long legs around the agent’s waist, moving to place lingering kisses on his neck. James blindly reached inside one of the drawers to get the bottle he had personally stashed there, extracting himself just slightly to spread the lube over his fingers and himself. He knew they weren’t going to last long, and quickly prepared Q by slipping his fingers one by one inside of him, eliciting more delicious moans from his Quartermaster.

    “Please, James,” he pleaded. They were both so close, and James wasted no more time. He lifted one of Q’s legs over his shoulder and pushed himself inside of Q, causing both of them to cry out in pleasure at the contact. James moved quickly, thrusting into his lover over and over again, hitting his prostate nearly every time. It was only a matter of minutes until Q climaxed and saw stars as he came, crying out his lover’s name. Q’s pulsating warmth surrounding Bond’s cock became too much for him, and he soon followed, coming hard inside of his Quartermaster. They lovingly held each other close during their orgasms, their moans muffled by tender kisses, and both were reluctant to let go for some time, even after they had come down from their high. Murmuring declarations of love through ragged breaths, the two eventually pulled apart, James reaching over to grab a stashed washcloth to clean them up. Q chuckled at how prepared his boyfriend was as they dressed each other somewhat haphazardly, not even bothering to make sure all their shirt buttons lined up.

    “let’s go home,” Q said with one more kiss, leading James towards the elevator and out of the branch, eager to continue what they had started, in the warmth of their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was literally supposed to just be fluffy and then somehow got out of hand and morphed into makeup sexy times. I just really wanted them to have sex on Q’s desk in Q-branch okay. XD  
> Song: Let’s Stay Together, cover by Maroon 5


End file.
